I know you
by EvilTulip
Summary: Tom Hagen meets his long-lost sister.
1. Who are you?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything Godfather-ish.  
**A/N: **I like stories behind the stories. So, here goes.

**Who are you?**

She worked as a secretary. She was thirty-two years old. Her hair was ginger, her eyes were brown.  
She stared into nothing, her hands hovering above her type-writer. The heavy machine sounded like raindrops falling down onto the street and the cars, but now it was silent.  
"Miss Ackermann?"  
The woman woke up from her trance and laid her hands on the table.  
"Sir?"  
"I want you to take some notes."  
Her employer insisted on calling her by her maiden name. Or, well, the name of the foster parents who had been so good to adopt her.  
She had been eight when she was placed into foster care. Her birth parents had passed away. She had long forgotten how they'd died. She didn't care to remember, as she'd been unusually lucky to have such good foster parents as she'd had and had been fairly happy. She didn't want to remember lousier times.  
Of course, the war hadn't been that happy. Her husband had been ordered to fight in Europe. He'd actually reached Berlin when he was shot down by some Hitler jugend. This had given her a mixed feeling – her foster parents were German.  
She was a widow. Her name was Dorothy Ackermann.  
Dorothy walked into her employer's office.  
"Sit down, Miss." He ordered.  
The other man in the office looked at Dorothy and smiled. Dorothy smiled back.  
"You don't mind, do you, Mr. Hagen, that I have my secretary take notes?"  
Dorothy was puzzled. This Mr. Hagen hadn't been in the day planner. Her employer must've made this appointment himself. Or Mr. Hagen had just walked in. But then she'd have been notified.  
"I prefer talking to you in private, Mr. Graham." Hagen said. Dorothy understood. She quickly left.  
Back behind her type-writer, she began thinking. She studied the day planner but couldn't find this Mr. Hagen's name. And she was so sure she'd heard it before. She must've written it down at some time or something like that. Who was he? He looked like any other person that visited Mr. Graham, but she'd never been ordered to leave before. What kind of business did he have with Mr. Graham?Graham was a district attorney, so she could do the math, but it just felt weird. Something was off.  
Mr. Hagen left Mr. Graham's office. Graham shook hands with Hagen.  
"Sure Tom, I'll make sure. Give my regards to The Godfather."  
Dorothy looked up at this Tom Hagen. He couldn't be much older than she was, perhaps a few years. She'd once had a brother named Tom. She'd never known what'd happened to him after she'd been placed into foster care. He was simply there the one day and gone the other. Could this…? Nah, it couldn't be. That'd be too weird.

Tom Hagen noticed how Mr. Graham's secretary kept staring at him. She probably had her own ideas of what his business with Mr. Graham was. Every employee of the people he had to see every once in a while had their ideas. Some were correct, some weren't. He'd stopped caring about what those people thought. And yet, there was something odd about the way this woman looked at him.  
"Mr. Graham, I thank you for your time." Hagen turned around to leave and started walking towards the exit.

As soon as Mr. Graham'd closed the door, Dorothy got up from her chair and looked at Tom.  
"Mr. Hagen, can I ask you a very personal question?"  
Hagen sighed and looked at this woman. It was only because she looked so determined he bothered to answer.  
"Sure."  
"Did you ever have a sister?"  
Hagen was taken aback by this question. He'd expected any question but this one.  
"Yes, I did. Why'd you ask?"  
Dorothy blushed. "Because I think you might be my brother."

**A/N: **I always wondered, ever since I read the novel, what happened with Tom's little sister. So, there you have it. I will publish the rest of my "theoretic fanfiction" on here if I get some nice reviews. Otherwise, I'll keep it on the inside of my head and no one will ever know I attempted to write this piece. So, please review, because I don't want it to go to waste.


	2. It's Me

**A/N**: It's been forever since I wrote anything FF. I do want to finish this story, though. I'm taking Stylistics this semester so I'll try to upload a chapter every week in which I take that week's subject and run with it, killing two birds with one stone.

**A/N 2: **I hated last chapter, so I'll rewrite some day soon.

**A/N 3: **This chapter isn't part of my Stylistics-chapters, it's just a connector to my current story ideas.

**A/N 4: **Yes, this chapter is a PoV switch. I intended it this way.

**Disclaimer: **I own Mr. Graham and Dorothy Ackermann but none of the canon Godfather characters. These are still very much the property of Paramount, Coppola and the Puzo estate. I think.

**It's Me**

Tom donned his hat and looked at this young secretary. He felt pity for her. Her ginger hair and dark brown eyes had an air of familiarity and the freckles made her look almost child-like. He wanted to protect her. He gazed over her head to her spotless desk, noticing the name-tag.  
"Miss Ackermann, I –"  
"Tom" Dorothy sharply grabbed his attention. "It's finie. These times are horrible. It's been years."  
Mr. Graham coughed in his doorway. "Miss Ackermann, please stop harrassing Mr. Hagen. Tom, I'm terribly sorry about this. Please –"  
Tom put up his hand and smiled. "It's alright, Mr. Graham. Miss Ackermann, it was nice meeting you."  
He drew the door shut and crossed the corridor to gaze out the window, onto the crowded Manhattan streets. The sunrays beat down on the reflective car roofs. He never asked for her first name. Their childhood – Tom chuckled softly to himself. Miss Ackermann could have been mistaken. For all he knew she could have picked up on Graham's 'Godfather'-remark and wanted a bit of Vito's generosity for herself. But then why claim to be his sister? No one even knew he had one, aside from Vito and Sonny. Maybe Mamma knew. Of course Mamma knew. But no one else. He turned away from the city and walked to the exit. Vito would have an answer.

Genco Olive Oil had been New York's most successful olive oil importer for several years now – that is, in terms of reported revenue. No one actually knew its precise profits, as its imports and sales were of a vast variety and were not accounted for in the official ledger. Tom knocked on Vtio's dark door, finding the Godfather in deep conversation with his own thoughts.

"Pop" Tom addressed him. Vito looked up at him and smiled.

"Tom" he spoke in his characteristic manner.  
"Pop, I have to talk to you."  
Vito sat back in his chair.  
"There was this secretary at Graham's –"

Vito looked sternly at him. "I never thought you one of them, Tom."  
"Oh, no" Tom continued. "That's not it. She claimed she was my sister."  
Vito sat up. "Family is all a man has, Tom. What does she call herself?"  
"Ackermann."  
Vito nodded. "Talk to our man downtown."

**A/N 5: **Yes, it's terribly short. But I had to do this. Next chapter will be childhood memories, so don't forget to R&R so I know what to take into account!


End file.
